


Dark Prince

by HPFandom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action/Adventure, Gen, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-05-26
Updated: 2005-08-30
Packaged: 2018-10-01 06:41:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10183133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HPFandom_archivist/pseuds/HPFandom_archivist
Summary: One day Severus Snape disapperat and the Dark Prince is born.





	1. part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from SeparatriX, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [HP Fandom](http://fanlore.org/wiki/HP_Fandom_\(archive\)), which was closed for health and financial reasons. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [HP Fandom collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hpfandom/profile).

Disclaimer: I do not in anyway or fashion own HP or anything else. I'm making no money from this  
Thanks for my beta Bell Witch and one of my friends.

Dark Prince  
By SyberSnake

"Oh, Severus, Severus, you can't really believe that you will survive this, can you? Nobody can betray Lord Voldemort!" The man's eyes brightened with red light in the dark room as he yelled.

The black form of a man was lying in front of him, his breathing was slowing and a trickle of blood was dripping from the corner of his mouth. Snape was exhausted and white because of several rounds of the Cruciatus Curse and his sight was becoming unfocused, however he turned towards the Dark Lord, and his voice sounded hoarsely when he said:

"If you think so, Father."

A small, almost grotesque smile played on his lips. At the sight of Voldemort's face, he chuckled slightly. His skin was even become more paled and he lost his consciousness.

The torches on the walls were flickering but went out when a magical wind blew through the chamber, bringing with itself long-lost memories. It died as quickly as it had come; and the torches once again illuminated the room.   
Recollections returned to the Dark Lord's mind, the thoughts of a woman. He was so lost in his own memory that he couldn't see the dark body in front of him.

§§§§§§§

The proud towers of Hogwarts stood illuminated against the night sky. In one tower, the figure of an old man was waiting in the window of the Headmaster's office: the lone figure was watching the forbidden forest for a man who may never come back. The new day brought happiness and light into the world, but not for Albus Dumbledore. His soul was lost in the sea of sadness, and only the changing of the clock to indicated the time passing. He searched the forest and the school's grounds, hoping that he would notice his dark child coming home to him. He continued waiting and hoping while the morning was passing and day turned into night. Because of a sound of a soft knock at his door he recovered from his thoughts. It opened with a crack, and someone entered. He heard a soft rustle of robes and felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Albus, Albus," said a voice with an unmistakable Scottish accent. "Albus, you need to let him go." McGonagall's voice was weak and tired. Dumbledore slowly turned away from the forest to face her, his face was full of emotions.  
"I can't do that until there will be some signs. I owe him with that." The sad eyes had lost their usual twinkle and reflected his real age.

§§§§§§§

Between white sheets, a black-haired man was lying unconscious. His face was unnaturally pale and peaceful, and if someone didn't look closely they would miss the slow rising and falling of chest that were the only signs that showed the man was still alive.

Tom Riddle, who had styled himself as Lord Voldemort and who was feared by Muggle-borns and pureblood wizards alike, now was sitting beside the man who had once served him. That service had ended in betrayal. Now, the man who was his son was lying still while his father was sitting and watching over him.

Now that he knew that Severus Snape was his son, he could not find out why he hadn't considered the possibility before. The man even looked like him. He remembered a night when he had met a black-haired, black-eyed witch. They had been together only on that one night several years ago.  
And now Snape lay on the bed, barely alive. Because of the Lord of life and death, who had nearly killed his own son and now could not help him.

He looked down at the still form, seeing many of his own features. Severus was a powerful wizard, and had even greater potential.

A smile which was a reflection of Severus' earlier grotesque expression played around his lips as a thought came into his mind. I murdered my own father, and he had wanted me dead: what a fine family. Low laughter escaped him. A family tradition.

His heart ached for the opportunity he'd lost. What he could have done with the boy who become Severus! Voldemort would have been trained him as a Dark wizard--a Dark prince. He could have gifted his son with the most powerful weapons of the Dark side. The thought made him smile fondly.

Another idea came to him. There was a Dark curse, developed a thousand years before, one that could reduce a person's age--permanently. It required a powerful wizard to cast it, and it only worked if the wizard caste this on another person. Yes, very few had the strength to cast it, and it was an extremely Dark curse. As he could not cast in on himself, he had pushed it to the back of his mind. But perhaps now it would be very useful.

Faint whimpers caught his ear as Severus' fever grew higher. He frowned. If he were to make the attempt, it was best to make it soon. A quick scan of the old spellbook told him that his memory was accurate--the curse was as he remembered. He was standing, holding his hand above the still form, chanting in an ancient language. Faint silver mists glimmered around Severus' body, growing brighter as the chant grew louder until their light was nearly blinding. Voldemort stopped his chanting, and the light disappeared.  
The figure below him was no longer of Severus Snape's, Death-Eater servant of Voldemort and spy for Dumbledore, but a little boy with black hair and pale skin. The Dark Lord looked down at the small form and smiled.

In his mind he formed a new plan, one that would end this war. He would train his son and send him back to destroy that old fool, Dumbledore. And the old man wouldn't be able to kill his little traitor--he wasn't able to do it in the past also, as well. Yes, Dumbledore would welcome Severus back and die by his hand. What could make a father more proud? Voldemort laughed. The small form shivered, but his father didn't notice.

He was sure about one thing: he won't make the same mistake twice. Severus Snape would be his servant, his prince, and his son. He would make sure of it.

The boy curled up on himself, pulling his blanket closer. The movement has fanned his hair around him on the pillow so that it was lying like a dark halo.

"He looks like an angel," Voldemort smiled to himself. A fallen angel.  
TBC


	2. Awakening

Disclaimer: I do not in anyway or fashion own HP or anything else. I'm making no money from this

Thanks for my beta Bell Witch

Dark Prince

By SyberSnake

Chapter 2 - Awakening

Severus opened his jet-black eyes and looked around the unfamiliar room. He didn't know this place, and it made him nervous. He tried to sit up so he could better see his surroundings. The movement caused his whole body to ache, and a moan of pain escaped him. He closed his eyes and tried to block the pain from his mind. Taking a deep breath, he eased himself back on the bed slowly.

He didn't know where he was, or how he got here. His mind was foggy, his memories confused. Some of these flashed before his eyes. They didn't make sense: there were faces without names and names without faces. Places he'd never been to but still seemed familiar. Himself, grown. He was sure that his headache was the worst in his young life.

He'd been hurt before; his body knew pain. But then he would wake up in the dungeons of his family's manor. This room wasn't in any dungeon.

He felt like something was amiss, but could not put his finger on what. He coughed, regretting the movement when pain shot through his shoulder.

The noise of faint movement caught his ears, making Severus look up from his musing. The first thing he noticed was the blood red eyes, practically glowing in the shadowed corner of the room near the door. They made Severus uneasy, almost like he was prey for some predator. The man with the red eyes moved like a predator, with elegance and danger, his black cloak billowing after him.

Severus carefully examined the man's face. Besides the red eyes, he looked normal. His ebony hair and snow white skin gave him a mysterious look. But they weren't what made the breath catch in his throat--it was the aura, one of pure power and danger that told of darkness and pain.

His instincts whispered to run as far as he could and never look back, but he knew from experience that if he were to try, he needed to be sure he could get away or he'd pay dearly. With his body as it was, useless from pain, his chances of escape were nonexistent.

"My darling Severus, I am happy to see you awake again." The man's voice was like a warm blanket, soothing his nerves as the stranger moved closer to his bed. Voldemort's long fingers ran through Severus' shoulder-length hair, brushing it from the boy's face. He caught Severus' chin in his hand and turned it upward so that they could look in each other’s eyes.

"I thought I would lose you." His voice hitched slightly. "Everything was on fire. When I didn't find you I thought… I thought I would never see you again." He sat down beside the boy and pulled him into a tight embrace.

While it looked as though Voldemort was on the verge of tears; that was as far from the truth as could be. He was a Slytherin, and manipulation was in his blood--second nature. He knew his usual ways would not gain him the trust of this young boy, trust he needed or his little snake would betray him again--because it was in his blood as well. The best strategy for now was to play the loving parent.

He gathered the little boy in his arms and stroked his back and hair, calming him.

Severus exhaled in relief; he was safe for now. He moved into the embrace, seeking more warmth and comfort from it. Not long after, Voldemort pulled him away and looked into his deep, black eyes. In the older Severus, he never saw emotion; his eyes were endless dark tunnels. But now they were full of innocence, confusion, and deep down he could detect pain.

"You remember me, don't you?" Voldemort knew this little boy had never seen him before, but he needed to make it seem as though they knew each other. "You were so small when we last met, but I hoped you would remember me--us." His voice was filled with sorrow and pain.

 

Severus slowly lowered his eyes and bit his lower lip to mask his uncertainty and worry. He shook his head--no. In his memories, there was a faint echo of a man, this man, and he remembered this voice. It brought him pain and calm as well. Everything was in a haze. His muscles tensed and he curled inward, trying to appear smaller than he was. His whole posture screamed 'fear'. When Voldemort held up his hand, he knew pain would come--it always came. He waited. Instead of a blow, the hand started to stroke his hair.

"I am sure you are a bit confused, but you will remember." Severus could not see as the man's red eyes deepened with malice. "You were hurt. For weeks we did not know if you would live or die," he whispered. His voice was almost caring, almost. They sat in silence for a minute, with Severus seeking as much warmth and comfort from this man as he could get.

"Tell me, my boy, what do you remember?" He looked into confused midnight black eyes. He almost smirked, good humour for once glinting in his red eyes. "For example, how old are you?"

His reward was a little shy smile that lit up Severus' face. "Five." Then the boy blushed and looked down at his small hands, which had started to play with his fa… this man's hand. "I'll be five in January, next year."

 

Voldemort chuckled at the boy's antics. Severus' little lies has not disappeared with his lost years. Nor had Snape's glare, although what was arrogant and threatening as an adult now made him look adorable.

Adorable? Where did that thought come from?

"Of course, son. Now try to sleep my boy. You are not yet well--you need your rest." He smiled one of his charming, reassuring smiles that could melt stone, while he tucked in the small form of his son. As he stood, he felt a tiny tug on the sleeve of his robe and looked down, arching an eyebrow in a questioning manner.

"Where is grandfather? When will he come?"

"I am sorry, Severus, but he is dead." Voldemort saw the boy's eyes widen and a trembling run through his frame. "Julian… your grandfather was killed by aurors. That is how you were hurt. I won't allow you to be hurt again. I am your father and I will protect you and will never leave you alone." He ruffled the boy's silky black hair.

When Voldemort stood to leave, he didn't see Severus' eyes as they glittered with new hope and mischief. He buried his face into his soft pillow. Maybe he was safe.

Maybe.


End file.
